


Kingdom of John

by BabyGusty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyGusty/pseuds/BabyGusty
Summary: John brings chaos in Sherlock’s world.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Kingdom of John

**Author's Note:**

> A sweet little fic that was written when Sherlock (BBC) had just aired..... Those were the days when all seemed possible in Sherlock-verse.

~ The Kingdom of John ~

Above everything else, Sherlock liked order. 

Other people thought he was exceptionally chaotic, but he wasn’t really. He had a very complex, highly evolved concept of organisation that only he knew and understood. He knew where everything was. He had an elaborate blueprint in his mind of everything that went on and everything he knew.

Whatever he saw, whoever he met and whatever he learned, it always got allocated a specific spot on that blueprint. Then, if he needed to look at it again, his mind would zoom in on it and there it was: neat and perfect.

There was a box reserved for Lestrade and behaviour at crime scenes. A bigger box for 221b Baker Street, including the contents of the fridge at any given time, which cups were dirty at the moment and how the floor boards creaked when he got up at night to think.

Furthermore: the tube schedules, taxi fares, bus stations and road network of London; and the equivalent of a large library, containing all the books Sherlock had ever read or leafed through.

Everything had its place.

Everything was perfect.

Until John Watson came into Sherlock’s life. The man who wouldn’t fit.

At first, John was but a few facts in a corner. 

_Forgets about his psychosomatic limp when distracted._

_Misses the war._

_His hands begin to shake when he’s bored._

But those facts were quickly followed up by more facts.

_Likes two sugars and a dash of milk in his tea._

_Doesn’t like talking about Harry._

_Finds me amazing._

_All of his passwords are the same._

_So are all of his PINs._

And before Sherlock had realized, John was all over his blueprint, chaotic and distracting. 

_When he is content, his smile reaches up to his eyes._

_He has a very distinctive smell, though not unpleasant._

_Tormented by nightmares on occasion._

_Doesn’t like me looking at him when he’s asleep._

When he wanted to think about what Lestrade had said about a case, he suddenly found the picture of John’s sweater in his memory.

When he tried to concentrate on something he had read a few years back, his focus kept returning to John’s last blog entry.

When Sherlock wanted to play a specific piece on his violin, he obliviously began playing another piece instead, one that he later remembered John liked.

It was frustrating and irritating and Sherlock didn’t know what to do with all this. 

He tried forcing John back, clearing his blueprint with violence: every time he found a mental image of John in his head, he deliberately hurt himself. Much to his surprise, this didn’t work. Soon he relished the pain because it had to do with John and everything that had to do with John, even pain, seemed to be intoxicating.

Then he tried drugs, again. But they dulled everything down except memories of John.

He tried starving himself, for no rational reason, but on day five, John brought a tray with sandwiches, sat down next to Sherlock on the bed and patiently waited until he had eaten all of them.

In his constant frustration he shot at the wall again, chopped up the sofa and deliberately broke four plates.

John quietly mended the holes in the wall, bought a new sofa and threw away the remaining plates to get a completely new set.

And then one night, when Sherlock was trying not to catalogue John’s various smiles, John himself suddenly brought order into Sherlock’s mind again, simply by kissing him.

The kiss was just the beginning, though, a promise that John was eager to fulfil. The kissing turned into groping and the groping somehow made them stumble onto the bed and then it was just bliss and chaos and yet…

… yet it was perfectly in order. Sherlock remembered all the little details he had never found a filing system for.

_John prefers lying on his right side._

_John has a sensitive spot just underneath his left ear._

_John can never harm me._

Later, when they were lying entangled in Sherlock’s bed, John asleep in Sherlock’s arms, Sherlock viewed his blueprint in his mind.   
The initial information boxes were barely visible underneath the new layers of facts. The blueprint of Sherlock’s world had become a map of Watson, a kingdom of John.

_He shivers when he whispers my name in ecstasy._

_His cock fits inside me perfectly._

_His voice can falter._

_His left nipple is more touch sensitive than his right._

_When kissed in two different spots, John makes two different noises._

There were pictures of John, smells, sounds. But he could still reach all of the other information he had filed away, even though it was buried underneath pieces of John. And Sherlock realized he didn’t want it any other way.

It was all fine.

Sherlock turned his head to watch John sleep. He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of John’s nose. Closed his eyes. Snuggled up. 

_John holds me tighter in his sleep when he subconsciously acknowledges my presence._

~fin~


End file.
